“Don’t.” Nick shakes his head. “I can see why you’d think that. Conn and I… we have history.”
“Marco told me,” Matt confirms, pulling away just enough to meet Nick’s gaze with a sheepish smile. “And insisted that history is all it’ll ever be… after I asked him why you never went to Quebec over the holidays. When I realized what I’d done, I came right here.”
“Damn it,” Nick mutters. “He’s gonna be so fucking smug about this.” Still, he can’t stop smiling. “Connor is a complicated subject. We’re friends now, but… what happened between us as kids fucked me up in so many ways, and I’m only really starting to realize half of those ways. And hockey… hockey fucked me up even more.” He huffs a wry chuckle. “That’s a story for another time.” Nick doesn’t want to go into the new year crying, not now. “Anyway, we’ve got more important things to discuss.”
Matt’s shoulders slump, bracing like he’s preparing for Nick to chew him out over the assumptions he’s made, but Nick’s walking on air, Matt’s earlier words echoing in his head louder and more incredible than any goal song. He smirks, sliding his hands to settle low on Matt’s hips. “You like me too much, huh?” he drawls, teasing. A blush creeps up Matt’s cheeks.
“Well, I?—”
“Uh-uh, no takebacks,” Nick taunts. “You said what you said.”
Matt looks him in the eye and finally seems to realize what’s going on. His lips twitch. “Then yeah, I said it. I like you, Nick Tiernan,” he retorts. “That gonna be a problem?” It’s achallenge and his amber eyes dance. Nick’s heart skips a beat, his fingertips tingling. For a moment, he’s sure he’s fallen asleep on Marco’s couch, will soon wake up to the sound of fireworks and that empty ache in his chest.
He bites his own lip, just hard enough to hurt. Matt’s still there, in his arms.Real.
“Kind of the opposite, actually.” Nick takes a steadying breath. “I don’t know if you noticed, but… turns out I’mreallybad at casual.” He snorts, watching Matt’s face stretch in a slow smile. “And I like you, too, Matt Hudson. More than just fuckbuddies.”
It’s a weight off his chest, saying it out loud,finally. But without that weight his heart is racing like a jackhammer, filling with so much foolish hope. He stares resolutely at the glint of silver at Matt’s throat, unable to look him in the eye while he stands there with his heart in his hands.
Long fingers slide gently beneath his chin, tipping Nick’s head up until they’re face to face. “Nick, sweetheart.” Matt softens, those sweet brown eyes looking apologetic. “I only did the whole fuckbuddies thing because you suggested it.”
That isnothow Nick remembers it. Protest on his lips, he casts his mind back to that fateful morning-after, running their conversation back through his head, and—Oh. Okay, yeah. He can see how he kinda jumped the gun on that one there.
Oops.
Matt’s lips start to curve in a smile as he watches the realization pass over Nick’s face. He cups his cheek with one large, warm hand. “I’ve liked you from the start,” he admits, a touch bashful. “But, well, literally everything about you justscreamedemotionally unavailable. And the closeted hockey bro I dated in college… things ended so badly I told myself I wasn’t doing that shit anymore.” Nick winces, but Matt presses closer, still smiling. “But then you had to go and be allcuteandfunnyandnice. So I told myself I could be all mature and shit and handle hooking up with you without letting any feelings get involved, since it was clear that was all you wanted.”
The exact same thing that Nick had been telling himself.Oh.
“The reason I got all weird after the Quebec game was because talking to Connor made me realize how ridiculously into you I was, and I didn’t know how to hide it,” he says quietly, heart pounding.
“Looks like we both failed step one, huh?” Matt muses, drawing a snicker out of Nick. It would be so easy to laugh about this, to fall into bed and not think twice, but reality is still weighing heavy on his shoulders.
“I’m, uh, still a closeted hockey bro, though,” Nick points out. He pulls away, ignoring the rising tide of panic inside him. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “And I’m kind of a hot mess. So if that’s a dealbreaker…”
“Nicky,” Matt sighs, and even though he sounds amused it still makes Nick flinch. “I don’t think there’s many dealbreakers when it comes to you.” His lips twitch. “Hell, even when I thought you were with LaPorte, there was still a big part of me that tried to convince myself I was fine with it just so I wouldn’t have to end this,” he admits, blushing.
“But you’re like,outout,” Nick protests. “Your whole brand is not giving a fuck what people think. I can’t expect you to hide for me because I’m too much of a coward to do the same.”
“Okay, this isabsolutelynot the same situation.” Matt’s voice is sharp, drawing Nick out of his spiral. “For one, I have the whole band in it with me. For two, sure, rock is a surprisingly conservative shitshow in a lot of ways, but, like, I’m not the first to push those boundaries. There have been dozens of musicians before me setting that groundwork, carving out that space, confronting those attitudes since before I was even born.”
His grip loosens, just enough to slide his hands up to Nick’s shoulders instead. “No one’s done that in hockey yet. Nobody’s dared do a thing to challenge those uptight heteronormative toxic-masculinity-obsessed douchebags—you conform or you get out, or they push you out. Nobody’s made a home for people like us in pro hockey. Not wanting to be the first doesn’t make you a coward.”
“But then what’s the fucking point?” Nick hates how whiny the outburst sounds. “If we’d still have to hide and lie and sneak around for the sake of my career, and both of us have such busy schedules we barely get to see each other anyway, then how is it different to doing what we’ve been doing?” A relationship can’t have afuture—Nickcan’t have a future—if all it is is snatches of time hidden behind closed doors. He learned that the first time around.
“Jesus, Tiernan, you really are an all-or-nothing kinda guy, huh?” Matt remarks, but it sounds fond. He presses a kiss to Nick’s forehead. “Tell me, do you want to be with me?”
“I can’t really—” Nick is cut off by a finger to his lips.
“Nope. Forget the logistics, forget the closet. Do you want to be with me, exclusively?”
The words make Nick scoff. Didn’t they cover that already? “I can promise you, Matt, I have not thought aboutanyonebut you since the day we met. Not even Connor LaPorte.”
A tiny, smug grin flickers across Matt’s features. Nick wants to kiss it off him, but he gets the idea the other man isn’t done yet. “Good,” he declares, “then how about we just keep doing what we’re doing, except for the part where we’re both pretending we’re only in it for the sex. I like you, you like me, neither of us is seeing anybody else—but that’s all it needs to be. And if at any point it stops being good for either of us, wetalk, all right? No hiding, no running away.” His eyes fix intently on Nick’s. “New year, new us, what d’you say?”
Downstairs, Nick can vaguely hear the TV being turned up and a countdown beginning. His phone buzzes on the bed, but he doesn’t care. All that matters right now is Matt, watching him with that hopeful curve to his smile.Six, five, four…
He reaches out, and Matt reaches back, and as the sky lights up outside they’re falling into each other, lips meeting desperately, hands begging forgiveness and understanding and all the other things they don’t dare speak aloud.
